Poems aren't stories, but I'll tell you one anyway
This tale isn't a happy one, so be warned if you stay
I met a boy, it was about a year back
I thought he was funny, but it wasn't much more than that
I spent three months chasing a different boy, I thought he was quite the find
Little did I know that the first boy; I was always on his mind
And so came the time where I gave up on boy number two
For a while I kept to myself, I still didn't think about you
Then suddenly one day, I opened my eyes
And after that you stood out from all other guys
I made a brave move, and I dared you to play
You were up for the game, but I didn't know if you'd stay
It only took one move, our romance rolled into action
I'd sneak into your house, we craved that passion
It didn't take long for you to slip that big word
But the word "girlfriend" was the happiest thing I'd ever heard
Now listen here, this may sound silly
But you were my first, and I couldn't help but worry
Come the end August, I knew you'd have to leave
College isn't something we could take on with ease
But you wrote that letter, I believed every promise you said
I believed in them so much, I memorized them in my head
"Don't forget about me, I know I won't forget about you"
You thought I was lying, but I remember that line too
It wasn't easy, but I say we did pretty well
Little did I know we were headed for hell
College is a busy place, school takes up a lot of time
But for your girlfriend, a lot of that time was mine
I'd hear from you less, and you'd apologize when you could
So I'd just smile and forgive you like I knew that I should
I knew what I was getting into, I was prepared for the fights
He thought he was too, but not for the lonely nights
Ill bet you didn't see this next one coming, it's such a plot twist
He texted me one night, this boy that I missed
He texted me, the boy I didn't notice for a very long time
He texted me, the boy who I now labeled as mine
He texted me, the boy I dared to play a game
He texted me, the boy who said he'd always feel the same
He texted me, the boy who I'd sneak out to see
He texted me, the boy whom I loved, with that he'd agree
He texted me to tell me a relationship wasn't going to last
And suddenly, in four text messages you became a thing of the past
He texted me. No, he did not call
And because of that, my world began to fall
But wait it's not over, don't walk away
I've realized something, and it's something I'd like to say
I don't care who reads this, the audience should be unclear
Didn't you notice, I used the word 'you' in places you shouldn't hear
There's only one person who I care about reading this
And I want him to know something, my last opportunity was missed
I do not hate you, but I do hate this one part
It's the only thing I hate, it's straight from the heart
I hate that you couldn't stand up to me, I hate that you couldn't even call
But you know what else, I hate that I still don't hate you
I don't hate you at all

too attractive for his own good
too attracted for my own good

If you think her kisses mean she wants you
she doesn't.
If you think it's going to work out with her
I don't.
If you think her heart is pure and simple
it isn't.
And if you think I'm going to wait for you
I won't.

Because you can't feel the tears sting your eyes if you're already drowning.

My parents tell me to stop bringing misfits home.

Stray cats, lost dogs, lonely people.

Anything sad in the neighborhood, sad in my sight, I bring home with me.

The poor teenagers up the hill, the stoners dazed by the lake, the girls with broken souls and the boys with broken minds. Survivors of all kinds of abuse find refuge with me.

I carried an orange cat home one day, I found him walking around a construction site. He was fed and given something to drink, and we found his owner.

A puppy only a few weeks old, eyes still closed, deathly ill. We bottle fed it and took it to the vet, but it was too late. She said she had a damaged spine and wouldn't make it. I stroked her head as she stopped breathing.

I brought a schizophrenic boy home and helped him through an attack in our living room, while my parents sat horrified in the kitchen.

No less than three girls have cried on my shoulder in the safety of my bedroom, traumatized by rapes they didn't know how to talk about.

These strays, these wounded souls....These are my people. I love them all.

So when they say "stop bringing such damaged things home" it breaks my heart.

And I do it anyways.

Throw me a line

I don't care if it rhymes

As long as it tickles
my posterior cingulated cortex

Spin me a vortex of spells

Yarn me a tale

Take me to heaven
or your own personal hell


Mesmerise me
with your poemetry.